


A Job Well Done

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-11-28
Updated: 2004-11-28
Packaged: 2018-11-20 20:29:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11342652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: This is pure, irredeemable smut for fun. PWP and a little shelf-dismantling.





	A Job Well Done

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

A Job Well Done

### A Job Well Done

#### by Griva

  


A Job Well Done 

Krycek POV  
Timeline: a fortnight after Sleepless  
Notes: this is pure, irredeemable smut for fun. PWP and a little shelf-dismantling. Rating: NC-17 Dedicated to Claude-Anne, the Mistress of Foxy and Ratty. Beta-d by wonderful Jynn. 

* * *

I stretch my arms above my head, looking at the partially dismantled shelves on the wall. I had known that it would take at least a couple of hours, but I hadn't known I'd have to work under these conditions. The conditions--being provoked continually by the man who I am constantly _subjected_ to. What's worse is I don't think that he has a clue what he's doing to me. He knows what intent and objectives are. His name is Mulder. Fox Mulder. 

My bleedin' unpredictable cock-ache. 

I wonder what would happen if he knew. Discovered that people who tease me end up in a different kind of trouble; that I make sure they remember me for a very long time afterwards. In school they used to tease me, call me Doll-face. I taught them all a lesson of A Broken Nose and A Black Eye and A Twisted Wrist. I wasn't a bully, but I always answered back. 

Now, how did I end up here, all dusty with a hammer and measuring tape in my hands, standing in the Rhode Island summer residence of the blue-blooded Mulder clan, with the break-your-tongue name of Quonochautaug this June afternoon? 

I suppose it started yesterday when at 8:35 p.m. Mulder, closing the Basement door. suddenly inquired about what I was doing this weekend, his voice a tree-sawing monotony, I shrugged, puzzled. Since I was put on surveillance of the FBI's Most Unwanted, nothing exciting had happened after that first case with the sleep-walking nutso Marines. "Keep tabs and play nice," the Smoker instructed. All the exciting subterfuge summed up to me being assigned as an acting cleaner-cum-typing-machine-cum-coffee-maker for Senior Agent Fox -would-have-rather-fucked-your-mouth-shut Mulder. Now what phantom did he want me to rush after? Working with Mulder made mornings early and nights twice as short. Free Sundays were a luxury. At least I planned to have the weekend ahead to have a good sleep, as much as it was possible in the unusually sultry beginning of this summer. 

So I shrugged and answered that I wished I could get out of sun-scorched DC. 

Mulder, his face unchanging, said he had a proposition. To help him clear the trash out of his childhood summer house. His father decided to sell it and sent for his offspring for a clean-up. I wondered to myself how come they couldn't afford a cleaner? 

Seeing my thin-lipped hesitation, Mulder added that he would pay for both plane tickets. Brazenly, he reasoned, loosening his tie as we stepped out of the elevator, 

"I might need a good hand there. You have managed to clean up the basement Scully had been nagging me about for six months and didn't move a finger." Well, Mulder was blunt and I didn't like beating around the bush. Why not if he pays? And I doubted that the Smoker would agree that refusing Mulder to go clean his mausoleum himself would qualify as _playing nice_. I decided not to quip that I don't have such well-manicured nails as Scully to be afraid to break them. 

"Will it make it to my resume?" I parried with equal indifference instead. 

Mulder made a thoughtful _I will think about it_ frown. 

"Deal. And you buy us lunch." Mulder's eyes changed color as he nodded in content. I felt his look on my back when I went to my car in the parking lot. 

I should have thought twice. 

It was a nice rich nook, five minutes to the sea, neglected garden, autonomous heating, en suite bath and so on. Used to be posh, but had been deserted for at least five years. Mulder didn't talk much in the first several minutes when we arrived. Then his usual self was back, quipping something about water-sports and citing someone dead that a good home must be made, not bought. He might have cited the Bible to me, I wasn't bothered. To me the house was full of junk not fit even for a garage sale. Why not just throw all the garbage out en masse? No, Mulder was surprisingly thorough, even though I presume an aversion to order was hereditary in the Mulders. By the time we cleaned the basement of some trash belonging from the 60's and numerous closets of half-rotten even more ancient rubbish, I started to suspect Mulder had more on his mind than packing books in the boxes and sorting out old linen. 

Maybe it was the sea air. Or maybe it was the abstinence I had imposed on myself because Mulder crammed my days with his presence along with some very, very late nights where he ensured that I had reports and files to sort out in my tiny apartment. Meanwhile he was back to bouncing his basketball and surfing the net for more hogwash to drop on my lap. 

He also had just demonstrated that he can't even put two nails straight into the wall. Or pull them out, if that mattered. The Smoker is lucky my uncle taught me how to handle not only a rifle and Makarov, but a hammer and a screwdriver. 

Mulder watched with bright-eyed interest as I handled the mentioned instruments with dexterity. He asked where I picked up my skills. I told him they stick when listening to too much Nine Inch Nails. He didn't get the joke. Of course, Mulder likes Puccini and Buddy Holly. He found several vinyl discs in the wardrobe, but they were cracked. I thanked god to myself they were. 

Now, the job I was doing was to clean the four-part wall shelves in the living room of a few tons of old newspapers, magazines and almanacs. I was standing on a stool and sweeping them off the top shelf while Mulder was putting them in boxes, sorting out what was a rarity and what could be cat-litter. Afterwards I will have to take the shelves down from the wall because they might crash. Now, is my duty not dangerous? 

But it was easier said than done. It had to be the largest set of book-shelves I've ever seen, apart from the ones in the Library of Congress. It felt like there was no air in the room since the ventilator was broken even though Mulder had opened all the windows. I wish he would give me a gasmask because of the dust and that old-paper smell that tickles my nose. I wish I could wear nothing but my running shorts. Instead I put on a pair of my old, almost-transparent-in-places Calvins and a sleeve-shirt I keep unbuttoned almost to the navel because of the damned heat. 

And I keep having these inexplicable bouts of chills and hot sweats sweep over me. OK, Mulder is the cause. If this was another show of his, he's got the public in it up to his...eh, extremities. Mulder chose to bend over those piles of paper debris about ten times too many instead of putting his ass on the floor and rummaging in the damned boxes to his heart's content. Like now, he was bending over, almost baring his round bubble butt for all of the world to see from my bird's eye view. In the dust and dirt he was casually dressed in low-slung jeans and a tee shirt. I suspect that he wore that tee when he was 14 here, because it keeps riding half way up his back. But he might as well be naked as far as I'm concerned because I can't get him out of my mind... 

Usually it's my head that rules my dick, not the other way round. I can't do a fuck about it this time. Mulder is ruining my ability to concentrate on the task at hand. All I can think of is how much I would love to keep him bent over one of those piles of paper and shove my dick so far up his ass he sees stars as I pound him into oblivion. Damn him. How am I expected to get any work done around here? I think I need a break... 

We went for a short walk when we arrived. He showed me around and maybe it was then that I got sun-stroke, which could explain my hot and cold spells. Yeah right. I should start thinking about a cold shower to beat down my growing horniness. Either that or sensibly locking Mulder up or sending him for a swim. I refused one twice already when he offered. Mulder rolled his eyes apparently mocking what he thought was shyness and sauntered for another empty box. I sneeze again and nearly fall off the chair I am standing on. Sweat stings my eyes. I push my hair out of them. It's a minor pleasure that I don't have to gel it here to look like the top weasel of the pack. 

"Alex?" Mulder had stepped out, waiting until I was done with the last shelf. They are empty now, with litter up to my knees on the floor. He knocks on the door to his own living-room, interrupting me from my thoughts. 

"What?" I say, wiping my hands on my ass. 

"Wow," Mulder sweeps the wall with his eyes, pursing his lips with satisfaction. "Can I ask another favor?" 

He is so polite that I'm very, very suspicious he's going to bend his line to take another advantage of his free-of-charge _we move things_ representative. 

"Yeah," I drawl. By the look on Mulder's face my value is catapulting. He hands me the measuring tape. His fingers are white with dust at the tips, a patch of sweet in the middle of his chest. His hedgehog hair is in disarray - it looks like he was wiping his fingers through his hair. Well, I can't say that as Senior Carpenter he looks worse than Senior Armani man. Nice, he looks...nice. With no Agent's poise, he oozes ... appeal. Easy. Shaggable. Now, I slap myself mentally square across the forehead. What kind of an image was that last one? 

I make an effort to concentrate on listening to what he is saying. His lips are glossy - he must have just had a drink. 

"My old man told me he wants the space measured, in case he decides not to sell it, but order it refurbished instead." I wonder that I feel a little note of embarrassment in my otherwise smug Senior. Does that mean that his old man is _still_ ordering his estranged offspring around? I thought Mulder was 31, not 13. 

And that means I will have to spend about 40 more minutes balancing here like Spiderman. My hands already hurt. 

"Okay," I shrug and take the tape. It's slippery and warm where Mulder held it in his fist. 

Mulder checks his watch. Out of a dress shirt, he has good arms. Pronounced biceps, long forearm, agile wrist, long fingers, a strong fist, a tight grip on ... 

"It's past three. You've done wonders already. So how about we take a break and you join me for lunch?" Mulder offers. I quirk my brow - he is a little inconsistent today, my usually _do it-can you do it faster-can you do it now_ race-horse Senior. 

I swallow hard. As much as I would like just that - to sit down and have a sip of Coke on ice through a straw, I don't want to pounce the poor guy when he purses those lips to do the same. I don't like that he is too _normal_ on me. Mulder is not supposed to be _normal_. If he worked with gritted teeth, waxed endlessly on conspiracies or Yeti or even bitched at me, I'd feel like myself. I assume maybe manners finally hit. He's just trying to be polite - I don't really have to be here, doing the work he hates to do himself. 

"No thanks. I just need to keep on. If I don't, I'll be here again tomorrow." 

Mulder's face is inscrutable. He considers it, getting the hint I don't plan to stay here for the whole weekend. Then just nods and walks away as I grab the screw-driver and move back over to the frame for the shelves. As I start back to work, I see movement out of the corner of my eye, through the door that's open ajar. He's now sitting at the dining room table, with some yellowed stack of papers. He's concentrating on the pages with a cheese-stick between his lips. I groan and turn my head away, inwardly cursing that he just chose to sit at the table where I can see him. I should stop seeing intent where it is just a coincidence. 

If Mulder only knew the lascivious thoughts running around in my mind, he'd probably punch me. Mulder wasn't the kind of wimp who would _run_ if he noticed someone developing the hots for him. His reputation of being open-minded excluded him being a homophobe. But nothing attested to the fact that _he_ might be _interested_ in the same gender market. I haven't seen anything special around him or in his apartment to even remotely indicate that he's queer; of course I haven't really looked either. Besides the fact that he stares at me. Well, it wasn't _gazing_ , so all I did was stare back. To blush on demand was above my artistic abilities. Ah, and we traded jokes. /"For such a pretty face you've certainly chosen the wrong job."/ Mulder would launch. /"Prefer men in suits to men in uniform?"/ Did he expect I would fold and start crying when he told me the obvious? Smirk, smile, stare, suspense. Let Mulder consider my quick responses at his tactless insinuations as easy training for his bent sense of humor. That was all. Most of my attentions have been on the reports and on Mulder's ass. That last one I acknowledged only today. 

I turn away once again and try to put him out of my mind. Ten minutes later, I'm in mid-swing of the hammer and he's running his hand idly over his chest. I don't know what caused me to look up, but I regret it instantly. The pain of the hammer making contact with my thumb instead of the nail is almost enough to drive away the hard-on swelling in my jeans--almost. 

I yell, I curse, I hold my hand close, and curse some more. Mulder is there at the door in seconds and raises his eyebrows at me. "Where you trying to take off your whole thumb?" He asks. 

I skip the humor. "No, I just fucking wasn't paying attention." /Now you will have to type all that crap to be delivered to Skinner yourself,/ I want to yell. 

He smiles unexpectedly and leads me into the bathroom. At least there's no debris here. The walls need a little scrubbing, but otherwise I practically salivate at the thought of a good, long shower. Cool, rejuvenating...Right when Mulder turns on the water and shoves my hand under the spray of cold water. I grunt as the spray hits my torn skin. "Fuck!" 

He looks at my thumb and then up to me. "Yeah, it looks like it hurts. I'll get you a bandage for you to put on that." 

I start to object since I doubt he will be able to find a sterile bandage here that isn't moldy, but then I realize that it would be for the best. He doesn't want to give me a blood infection. Mulder walks back to the living room and opens the door, only to get an odd look on his face and move the door to where it's only partially open and I can't see inside. But I can hear him going through some shelves. He gets out the sealed Band-aids and walks over to me. He looks at my thumb after he dries it and observes, smiling slightly, "Looks like it's under the fingernail instead." 

I nod my head. "It's ok, don't worry about it." I note to myself that over the first half of the day Mulder has smiled at me more than over the two full weeks since we met. 

"Don't bleed on my father's books, huh?" He shakes his head and laughs. This is weird...it's the first time I hear Mulder laughing. I want to hear him do it again. I can't help but laugh along with him uneasily and in the next moment I take my hand away from his palm when it becomes too weird to stand holding hands. Now, what am I missing here? I'm usually not so slow on the catch. Is he trying...trying... to affect me? Why else would he go all touchy-feely on me? 

Is he feeling me up? Did I paid _more_ attention at him than I was supposed to, and he misinterpreted it as queer signals? Could be a trap. I've seen Mulder crack witnesses. He can assume a lot of faces, and then he nails you to the floor like I nailed my finger. With my unhurt hand I wipe my brow. I must have made myself even dirtier, because Mulder says: 

"You're striped." He gives me a head-to-toe sweeping look, as if it is _me_ who must run to the shower. Before I open my mouth, he adds thoughtfully, "And _I_ stink too." He turns to leave then. 

He takes his dirty plate to the sink, leaving my sandwiches and instant noodles on the table. His shirt has bared his navel. Again. I'm tempted to stare at him for a moment, but then I remember where it got me the last time. My dick is already throbbing as I remember his gentle yet practiced touch. He hadn't seemed repulsed by touching and tending another man's hand at least. 

"I will go have shower. Hang on a minute ok?" 

"Yeah, sure," I say. Hang on where? And why? I wait for him a few minutes and then I realize that I'm just hanging _around_ his bathroom when I should be working. I make my way back into the living room which is just five steps away and begin working again. 

I reached down to grab my measuring tape but it's not there. I can't immediately remember where I left it. Damn. I look around for it for a few moments and then wander back to the bathroom. I could have sworn that Mulder was standing at the sink when I walked out of the living room; but when I approach the bathroom I can hear him in the shower. The door to the bathroom is only partially open but what I see takes my breath away. 

The shower door is as clear as day and he's standing under the spray of water, wetting his hair. The water is running in streams, caressing his body. For a man as tall as I am, Mulder has a very good body. Honed. I think of triathlons and water polo. My cock instantly drools over what my eyes perceive. Now this was an immediate reaction. Not wanting to invade the man's privacy, I turn to go. "Alex?" 

I stop in mid-step, but do not turn around. Since what bleeding times am I Alex? "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were in the shower. I thought maybe I'd left my measuring tape on the counter." 

I hear the shower door close. "It's there; come on in and get it, I don't mind." 

I clench my teeth together - I can wait till he finishes, really. Can go and grab that sandwich before it becomes fly-infested. Why the fuck am I sweating like a horse on the Derby? Oh fuck it, maybe my Senior wants to check if I'm comfortable with a little skin? Or maybe he expects me to faint like I pretended to do in the morgue when he visited that redhead broad of his? I put my hands on my waist and go into the bathroom. The yellow tape measure is sitting right on the edge of the sink. I still can't remember bringing it here when I hurt my thumb. I grab it and start to walk out when I look at the shower door again and Mulder is standing there, the water cascading over his body, watching me. The look in his eyes is predatory and I'm instantly nervous. That's not like me. I didn't even get nervous when I had to shoot that sleep-deprived wacko Cole and had to cry with compunction on demand facing the Bureau shrink of the day. That was another great artistic endeavor on my part. 

I open my mouth to speak but no sound comes out. I watch Mulder's eyes sweep up and down my body like he did just five minutes ago and he gives a slight nod toward the shower. I have no clue what he's referring to. I can presume all I want, but a crossed line is a crossed line. I'm not about to cross it on what I `think' is going on. It's clear - he is baiting me. _He_ wants to see me pounce on him? Yeah, I'm neither stupid nor so needy. I start to walk out of the room and I hear the shower door. I let out a breath of air thinking that he's closed the door. The incident is over. 

In the next moment, I feel his hand on my shoulder. 

My heart is hammering in my chest and my damn cock is tenting out my jeans so far it's painful. "I need to work on the shelves." 

You little faggot chicken-shit, Alex. 

"Yes, but is that what you want to work on right at this moment?" Mulder says as he turns me around and pushes me against the wall. He gives me a long, appreciative stare and then leans forward, pressing his lips firmly to mine. I'm torn between pushing him away and pulling him close. What I feel against my hip tell me he's not just _aroused_. He is fucking _burning_. 

My mind reflects at light speed. It's not that Mulder is not good-looking. He is _more_ than just an unusually pretty face. He is appealing, and swaying and _real_. Then his other advantages - like his hands and mouth and that ass...What if he exposes me? But it's _him_ who is ruined if I claim sexual harassment. But the Smoker...does he know? _Could_ he know and kept it away from me? Either way, he definitely didn't intend me to keep _such_ tabs...Mulder is watched...maybe that's why he went here? But then...I'm the watcher. I tell them what _I_ see... And _this_ definitely is not going into their files on him. 

My devotion is very limited. I serve myself, first and foremost. 

I will go after this. I _suspected_ there was more going on. I just have to start it in the right key. 

I drop my tape measure to the floor and slide my hands around Mulder's slim naked hips. I latch onto his ass cheeks with both hands squeezing, pulling them apart. My thumb is throbbing and it hurts like a mother-fucker, but now my cock is painfully hard. Mulder pulls away and smirks like a satisfied cheetah. 

"I've been wanting to do that since the first time I laid eyes on you." He says. I don't manage to hide my astonishment when he drops this bombshell. My files - I mean the files available for FBI - are clean of indicating my proclivity. 

To avoid the awkwardness, I hold up my hand and show him my thumb. "This, is because of you." Mulder begins pulling my shirt off as I complain. I sound like I'm 8. I have to give _some_ credibility to remain the Junior he is hot about. If it's the _Junior_ he is hot about. "You could have just said something you know." 

"I've enjoyed teasing you." He says while winking at me. "You needed pick-up lines and candles?" 

"How about you needing a walking stick after this?" He cocks his head, amused at my thrust. His eyes signal crystal clear lust. 

I watch him as he quickly releases me from my jeans. I watch his face for a change in his expression when my nine-inch, uncut, thick cock springs toward him. Mulder's sharp intake of breath and his eyes meeting mine is all I need to know. I can see that he knows. He knows that I'm going to make him scream. 

If he expected it visa versa, I just shattered his presumption. There are very few principles I live by, and one of them is _never bottom on the first date_. But Mulder didn't look disappointed. Not by a large stretch. 

Now, I want to find out where _he_ stands. Before he manages to open his delectable mouth, I reach out, put my hand on his chest, then roll his left nipple hard between my fingers. Pain etches across his face but his tongue runs between his lips in anticipation. I pull him close to me, just to feel his naked skin against mine. He has only a small dusting of hairs in the middle of his chest and a trimmed arrow pointing to his crotch. I want that mouth. Everywhere. Does he kiss on the first date? 

"What do you want Mulder?" 

He drops to his knees without saying a word and begins nuzzling his face into my crotch. I know I smell of sweat, but it seems to only make him more excited. My fingers course through his wet hair and then hold him close to me. I only want to feel his excited breath against my cock and balls for a moment before I want anything more. 

I shift my hips and whisper. "Clean me good." 

I suppose we just skip the coo-talk and get down to fun as two mature adults. It feels good to do what I'm used to being, for a change. 

His tongue goes to work at dizzying speed and my knees are beginning to buckle as his tongue laves its way around my ball sac. His tongue snakes up the underside of my cock and when he gets to the tip, he takes me into his mouth. He struggles and tries to take all of me, but he can't. I feel him try to relax his throat muscles and he manages to take more in. His mouth is so fucking hot around me, his lips so tight. I watch the way his lips slide up and down my dick shaft. He really is beautiful to me at this very moment. I want to see how accepting he is and I begin to slowly thrust my hips. He takes it in good stride and I am suddenly latched into his hair with my fists and literally fucking his mouth. He gags, but he doesn't complain and doesn't pull away. He only purrs as if he's enjoying every thrust. 

Tell me, Mulder, does your father know that you give an impression of having undergone a long optional course of oral activities. Lots of practice apparently, whoever the lucky son of a bitch was. 

My balls are tingling and I'm afraid he's going to make me shoot before I'm ready. I definitely want a piece of his ass before that happens. I don't know what my smug Senor was smoking this morning. Maybe this is a singular delusion. 

"Move on Mulder," I say as I pull my cock from his mouth. 

Mulder looks up and squints. "You sure?" I try to look menacing but apparently I don't pull it off. He keeps eye contact with me for a few moments longer. This is a giddy perspective to look at a man from who prefers to tower over his peers. Then he begins to lick my balls again. He moans as he licks further between my buttocks and tries to reach up. I turn and brace myself against the wall, pushing my ass into his face. "Get that too and I'll make it worth your while." 

Not more than a few seconds later, his tongue is buried so far up my ass, I swear he's trying to eat me from the inside out. "Fuck yeah!" I moan into the wall. "That's it man, you're...oh fuck," I say as he's flicking his tongue quickly in and out of my hole and then begins licking up and down my crevice. I can't say enough about this man and the amount of skill his mouth beholds. I take back all my curses directed at his glib and snapping mouth. There's no way I want to shoot like this. "Stop!" I hiss quickly and grope behind me blindly, trying to pull Mulder off my ass. 

Mulder stops and I instantly feel his absence. I turn and pull him up, pushing him toward the counter. I push him back and he lays flat, pulling his feet to rest on the edge. His mouth is half-open, his nostrils are flaring and his cheeks are flushed and wet. But I stare at his beautiful prick that's nestled in a patch of dark hair. It's about same as mine lengthwise and just as lean and lithe as he is. I lean forward and kiss Mulder carefully. My tongue teases his in a slow, sensual dance that becomes increasingly faster as he doesn't resist. Two, five, harder, seven. Mulder kisses like he's eating a watermelon. Before long I'm tonguing his mouth as if I'm fucking it with my tongue. His hands cup my nape. I stroke his shoulders and lick his chin, then neck and hollows under the jawbone. He's moaning beneath me and that just drives me on. 

I move down and catch his right nipple in my mouth as I roll the left one in my fingers. He arches toward me and I feel his cock drooling all over my chest. I tease and bite all the way down his abs. As I come to the "V" of his hips, I let my tongue follow the trail. He nearly jumps off of the counter at that and that just makes me want to do it again. "You like that, huh?" 

He tries to nod his head but I follow the trail again and he moans loudly. "Damn it Alex, you're driving me crazy," He hisses. 

I can't help but grin at him. I like that he lets me know what I do to him. "Then you're going to love this," I say as I lap up the precome that's practically dripping from his piss slit. His salty essence is enough to make my cock twitch and my head spin. I take him in, in one swift motion, burying my nose into his dark furry pubes. I pull completely off and tease all around his glans with my tongue. He's playing with his own tits by now and groans as I watch him. Is this the same man who snarked that I was never fast enough for him and told me to get my skates on and took pleasure making me feel like I haven't finished the 3rd grade? I leave his cock and travel to his balls. I nip them a time or two but what I really want is further on down. 

My tongue laves down Mulder's balls and as I get to his perineum, I push his legs back even farther towards him, opening his ass wide just for me. I lick and tease along his crevice and then come back to his anus. He's practically shaking at the first touch of my tongue. 

"You just remember what I'm getting you ready for," I tell him. Something is telling me the triter I sound, the more he gets off on it. Me too. 

He grabs his legs behind the knees and sits up a little trying to watch me. The texture of his hair against my tongue is as intoxicating as his taste and smell. He's just been in the shower, but I can't smell that scent of liquid soap. The only thing I smell is Mulder. I know that he hadn't gotten around to washing up yet. I somehow feel that he'd been waiting just for me, waiting for me to come and claim my lost tape measure. I look up at him suddenly. "Did you leave my tape measure in here?" 

He nods quickly. His flush of arousal is deepened by unease. "I saw you...watching me. I wanted you to react. To make you go after me. I thought if I could get you to leave something important in here, I could get through the rest." 

Well, he's got me reacting. What remains is to enjoy it. And I don't think I'd insist on him paying me back for the plane ticket now. 

I cover my finger in spit and tease his hole as I move up, taking his dripping cock into my mouth again. I suck and stroke him, letting my tongue swirl along the underside repeatedly. He is soon arching his hips and thrusting as I go down. I have two fingers buried in his ass and when I felt his ass clenching around me, I know he's about to come. Mulder doesn't beg me to stop. So I bob my head, twisting my mouth around him. He soon thrusts hard and spurts his load into my mouth and I take it, but I don't swallow. I move up, without removing my fingers from his ass, and kiss him. I let his come trail between us, his tongue trying to lap up his spunk from mine. 

You dirty kinky bastard. I love them dirty. I can put more things in your mouth that you can imagine. 

I continue to finger fuck his ass, as he reaches for my nipples with both hands, rolling them hard between his fingers again. "I'm already going to fuck you raw. You're just going to make it worse." 

"I know and I just want you to fuck me, Alex." Mulder says quickly. I realize very suddenly that one time with Mr. Mulder is _not_ going to be enough. Am I that lucky or he is so debauched? 

I furrow my brow: "You have something?" If he says he bought condoms with the groceries, I will kiss his feet. 

"I thought you had." Mulder states. This time he assumed wrong. As I shake my head, he starts to sulk. 

Now, what a fuck up. I lean in to tell him to suck me off and be over it, but Mulder speaks up: 

"I checked your medical records. You may..." he makes a vague gesture with his hand. 

"Well, _I_ didn't check yours," I can't help but sting. You nosy bastard. Now, this slap went wrong, because his eyes darken at my presumption. He sits up and pushes me back in the chest: 

"I'm not a slut. I don't do this often." His voice is hoarse and a look at his soft cock reminds me of my thick and full one. If he puckers up, literally and virtually, I will be the one humiliated and with blue-balls. 

"Hey," I catch his elbow. "I was an asshole." Before he gives me a rude rebuff, I get hold of his second arm and don't let him to go away. He pushes against me once for show of his mettle, but then stops. If he was truly insulted, Mulder would have gone for my throat by now. 

"You _are_ an asshole," Mulder retorts brilliantly but as I bend down to lick his chest, he tells me there is some baby oil in the medical cabinet. 

Baby oil? Ah, baby oil! His fingers are drawing patterns under my coccyx, slipping everywhere he can reach, and I'm too horny to be a smartass. He doesn't have to know I enjoy bareback rides, but last time I allowed myself one was at my college graduation party. 

I empty a good shot of oil that seems to be ok on my fingers before shoving them lovingly back up Mulder's ass. He hisses in what I almost mistake for pain. His eyes tell me differently. 

I pull my fingers out of him just long enough to grease up. I grab onto his shoulder with my left hand and his head nuzzles against my forearm in an almost cat-like gesture. "If you really want me to stop, you're going to have to say stop. _No_ and _don't_ aren't going to cut it." 

"Just fuck me Alex. I'm not you're boyfriend; I just need it bad. So fuck my ass or move on." He says pointedly. If something was holding me back, this statement pulls out the last stop. 

I rest my cock at his entrance and I push forward gently. I feel the resistance there and I slowly keep pushing. I may want to fuck the guy, but I want him to function normally when I'm done. I will _try_ to remember who I am doing this to. On Monday at 8.30 sharp we have a meeting with Skinner. If Mulder hobbles and squirms where he sits, I won't be wet not only behind my ears. 

True, it doesn't _feel_ like he is doing the bum-work often. But I feel Mulder open up to me as I look into his eyes, he nods. His teeth are bared. He looks the same when he is pissed off. I give one hard swift push and sink into him. 

"Oh shit!" I say with my mouth practically gaping open. "You've got such a tight ass. I..." 

His muscles clench and ripple around me and I am left breathless. Can't say that I take my words back. I turn my head toward his leg on my right shoulder and I lick and nuzzle along his calf, trying to keep from coming. When the feeling passes, I move my hands down to his hips and I hold tightly to him as I begin sliding in and out of him. Mulder starts pushing against the old tinted mirror as I fuck him, and with each stroke, I can see the mirror slide. Not wanting to cause it to come crashing down, I stop. I pull him up and bite his bottom lip gently as I pull out of him. He instantly huffs, but I give him no time to complain as I bend him over the counter. 

My dick has just come from his ass and I know full well that he's able to take it. I enter him again before he even knows what I'm doing and I pull his hips tightly to me, pressing his beautiful ass further down on my cock. He hisses and then clenches his muscles tight and rises up, letting himself rest fully against me. "Oh Alex, you feel so fucking good." 

It's like music to my ears. I didn't expect this would sound so special to me. But I decide against calling him Fox - he seems to have an allergic reaction to his name. 

"That's it Mulder, you're reading my mind." I can't help but wrap my arms around his chest and play with his tits as I watch myself fuck him in the mirror. He soon leans forward, holding tightly to the counter. I begin to pound into his ass and he begins to meet me, stroke for stroke. He's watching me in the mirror and our eyes meet. With all my macho bravado, it sinks into me that he must be more unhinged, in his head, than I ever would be. 

And something _else_ inside of me clicks and I realize that this might be my only chance with my gorgeous Senior. Doing this in DC, be it my apartment or his would be too dangerous if I cared about our confidence. I have a sharp ache in my gut realizing that no way he'd be giving me head behind the water dispenser. 

Suddenly, this is not only about getting off. I let my eyes wander to Mulder's lean and defined back and shoulders. My hands soon follow and I feel small hairs against my palm as I rub and caress him. My hands move to his sides and I can't help but knead the muscles of his torso as I pull him harder against me. He feels _some_ change in my attitude, and tenses. Don't get me wrong, Mulder, I just want us both to remember this for a long time. In and out as I fuck his tight little hole; up and down as I caress every single part of his upper body. I think to myself, bitterly, that whoever finally settles down with this guy is going to be the luckiest man alive. 

If I only wasn't already ambitiously engaged elsewhere... 

"Alex," He whispers. 

I look back up at him in the mirror and he's got that face of a man being hurt. I narrow my eyes at him. "What's wrong, Mulder?" I pant out as I thrust hard and deep and hold my position over him. Mulder's breath hitches, his face contorts. So...fucking... appealing. I let my upper body fall over his and I rest my chin on his shoulder. I move my hips in a circular motion and animal-like sounds begin to come from his mouth. 

"Please Alex." He looks up into the mirror, meets my eyes again, "don't fucking stop." 

Oh, and I already started to worry...I want to drive him completely nuts. I smile and lick his body that's now slippery with sweat. It reminds me of the salty-sweet tang of his precome and I moan as I withdraw and sink into him again. His ass feels so incredible, so hot and so fucking tight, but I am not even close to dropping my load. It's like my cock knows that this is the only chance it has with Mulder's perfect ass. But then it dawns on me, it's not just his ass or his cock, it's him. It's him as a whole person that I'm fucking. I haven't connected to anyone else like this in ages - from the first fuck! - and it makes me shudder. 

I pull him up against me. "We're going to walk Mulder. Work with me and keep my cock buried in your ass as we walk to the bed." 

Damn, I _was_ blind as a bat, thinking more about that Morley stinking old grump than what was right _there_ , behindthe desk with a plate Fox Mulder. I thought _this_ he would refuse. Would snap `are you out of your mind?' Or order me to finish this off and be over it. But Mulder nods and lays his head back against my shoulder as we walk, and basically grips me so hard that a vice-grip couldn't have done a better job. He chuckles. "You're getting all sentimental on me aren't you?" 

"No." I lie. "But I'm no where close to coming and I'm tired of standing." 

Now that earns me a look _this would have gone to your resume if it was allowed_. 

We finally make it to the bed. Then, maybe this is Mulder's ultimate kink to get fucked on the bed of his sanctimonious parents. It is a queen with only a mattress covered by a thick bedcover. It smells dusty and unused for years. Mulder lies down carefully on his stomach and then shoves his ass forcefully against me. I groan and spread his legs even wider. My body is thankful for the comfort of the bed, but this isn't what I want, I want to see his face. I want to watch as he shoots his load and achieves that higher plane of ecstasy. This will erase that smug leer off his face when he refused to shake my outstretched hand. Damn you, didn't know shit about me and already you despised me? 

I move out of him slowly and Mulder instinctively turns onto his back. He lifts his legs and bares his ass for me and I sink into him in one long movement. I let my hips rotate and watch as his eyes roll back in his head. I knead the muscles of his chest and abs as I fuck him. He reaches up and begins rolling my nipples hard between his fingers. As if there were a highway directly linking my tits to my cock, my cock swells even more. "Of fuck, roll them hard. Damn, Mulder." 

Mulder snarls in a primal way and arches his back, shoving his chest closer to me. I bend my head and suck the hard nubbin of his left tit into my mouth, flicking my tongue quickly around it. His ass clenches around me and I repeat the gesture to his right tit. I then lean forward and tease his lips with my tongue. His tongue meets mine and we kiss. His kiss seems to be what drives me over the edge. I feel my balls tightening and they're no longer slapping against his ass cheeks. 

I move my kisses down his neck to his shoulder as I begin to thrust as hard as I can. As I _want_. Beneath me Mulder makes those sounds as a man whipped as I repeatedly hit his button. Knowing what I'm doing to him and feeling his ass clenching around my cock as it's driving into him; just makes me pump even harder. Before long I'm pounding hard into his ass, staring into his eyes as he screams my name hoarsely over and over again. 

Right, my mind whirls wicked. Give them to me. A scream per every time you called me Krycek and made it sound like I'm your debilitated secretary. 

"Alex!" He repeats. "Don't stop, don't fucking stop Alex!" 

"Oh yeah, you like my cock pounding your ass don't you," I say, clenching my teeth. I get off on fuck talk because he does. I won't have difficulties looking him in the face tomorrow. I will have difficulties _not_ doing this again. And again. 

"Come on Mulder, come for me." I know that I'm practically killing him by pounding repeatedly into his button, but I know that his desperate sounds are the ones of joy. 

"Harder." He cries out. "Just..." 

He doesn't have the chance to finish when I grab his shoulder and slam my hips against his ass cheeks. Fuck, the guy can take a stride! I _must_ have him again. His chute ripples and grips me as he grabs his own cock and begins to jack it into a frenzy. 

"Oh fuck yeah! I'm gonna ... just don't... Do me--do it--Alex...yes..." Raw yesses are breaking from Mulder's throat at how good he feels. A few moments later, his first shot of hot spunk hits me beneath my chin and the rest shoots in long ropes across his chest, the final one hitting his cheek. 

I feel like I'm riding the killer pipe. Mulder's head snaps from side to side as he wrings the last pleasure out of my rigid cock. I lose my voice with pleasure and jerk my hips in an instinctive attempt to pull away from the final thrust that knocks me over the brink. On the spur, I pull out and as soon as I fist my cock a time or two, I'm shooting my load over Mulder's chest, his face and some even lands in his hair. His legs fall down beside me and I crawl over him, lapping at his skin and kissing him. He moans into my mouth as he wraps his arms around my shoulders. I'm a hot, heavy blanket and in a few seconds we unglue ourselves. 

"Kind of messy," Mulder mumbles. 

"Oh." I smirk uncertainly. His eyes are still closed while he raises his trembling hand to wipe his face, but I do it for him with my mouth where he still is stained. No other protests or comments followed. 

There were no coverlets to draw over us. So we lay chest to chest, legs still intertwined. 

"So I'll be careful now not to flaunt _my_ ass in front of you," I say. I want to break the spell. Return to the now. 

Mulder doesn't say anything. He looks like gratification himself. As if there were not enough surprises, I'm stunned he is so relaxed by my side in the afterglow. 

Then, he stirred. Brought his hands to his face, rubbing. 

"So, are we flying back _tomorrow_?" Mulder states, in a voice excluding negation. He sounds like my Senior again. I thought the return ticket was for today at 9 pm. 

I leer and nod. I resist an urge to ask if some of his cum didn't go to his brains. But Mulder was so natural and easy about us fucking, that I put the smartass mode on hold. But in Mulder's eyes...there was a glint of something...devious and immensely pleased. It went above having just gotten royally fucked, it was... 

Realization kicked in sluggishly. I sat up and inquired, voice shrill with indignation and already-there laughter, 

"Mulder, you bastard, did you father _really_ need to clean the house?" 

14   
  

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